


Away

by HopeCoppice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Other, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 00:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21127592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice
Summary: They can command reservations at the Ritz at a moment's notice. They can performmiracles,or the demonic equivalent, for- well, for Somebody's sake. There is absolutely no way that they should ever be able to find themselves in a situation where there is only one bed.And yet.





	Away

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about the trope, and how it's a shame it's a tricky one to work into this fandom, and then my subconscious went "nah, I got this" and now this fic exists.
> 
> It's late at night and I probably haven't read over this as many times as I should have so apologies for mistakes or poor quality but I'm impatient and I just wanted to share it.

"To the world."

“To the world,” Aziraphale echoed, and there was something achingly tender in his expression that forced Crowley to look away. It wasn’t what he thought it was - it wasn’t what he wished it could be. So he looked away, and he drank to the world, but he was thinking of _ his _world, sitting on the other side of the table. Aziraphale, his world, who was speaking again.

“Wossat?”

“I said, I don’t _ think _they’ll try that again in a hurry.”

“Blessed well hope not,” Crowley grumbled, but his angel wasn’t finished.

“All the same, I wondered if we might be better off not going home, tonight.” Crowley must have looked as surprised as he felt, because Aziraphale hurried on. “Your, er, Hastur, was it? He didn’t look happy. I’m certain he won’t- but all the same-”

“Yeah. Yeah, course.” Crowley called for the bill, paid it and stood. “Can I give you a lift? Anywhere you want to-” He stopped, the words striking a chord with a memory. If Aziraphale noticed, he was kind enough not to mention it; that little twitch could be anything, just a draught making him wince. Crowley could tell himself that, anyway. But then the moment passed, and Aziraphale nodded.

“Yes, a lift would be very- oh, but Crowley, we must go _ together_.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t expected that. “Oh. Well, if you think so-”

“I do think so. I’ll be restless enough, after all this excitement, without having to worry about whether Hell’s caught up with _ you.” _

“You’d worry?” He knew he would, really; it was just the fact that he’d said it aloud that caught him off-guard. Aziraphale hardly _ ever _admitted that they were actually anything resembling friends. Now, it seemed, he was finally ready. Crowley couldn’t be happier.

“Of _ course _ I would, Crowley.” Aziraphale did that little fussy thing he did with his head when he was flustered, the thing that made Crowley’s heart turn over every time. “I suppose I’ve got rather used to having you around.”

Crowley opened the car door for him and watched him get in, trying to control his facial expression. _ I’ve got rather used to having you around. _ He’d take that.

Aziraphale didn’t seem to have any particular destination in mind, except for ‘away’, so Crowley picked a direction and drove in it, listening to Aziraphale’s running commentary on the contents of his glove box, for nearly two hours.

“You do have a lot of bebop, don’t you?”

“I really don’t think you need _ this _ many pairs of sunglasses in your _ car_, Crowley, how many eyes do you _ have _in this corporation?”

“Is this a handkerchief? Well, it is a small world, I had one just like it back in… oh, it must have been the turn of the century. Lost to time and carelessness by now, of course.”

“Crowley, do you just stick your feathers in this little compartment when you moult? Really, my dear, imagine the trouble if a human found them.”

“I don’t have humans in my car,” Crowley growled.

“Well, you did the other day. Oh, what’s this- why do you have a stone in here? What strange squared edges- oh, I say, there’s no need for that.” There had been _ every _need; Crowley had had to reclaim his little bit of masonry before Aziraphale realised where it had come from. At least it wasn’t consecrated any more - still, it tingled a little to Crowley’s touch, and he didn’t want Aziraphale getting too close a look at it. He tossed it back into the glove compartment, where it belonged, and closed it firmly as he pulled into a parking spot.

“Here. Budget hotel. Boring, anonymous, safe.”

“They should have you write their advertisements,” Aziraphale grumbled, but he followed Crowley into the reception area all the same.

The receptionist looked up at them with a bright, albeit tired, smile, and Crowley offered him his most charming smirk in return.

“Hello! Just wanted to check in for the night. Two rooms, please, next to each other if you can.” He had no doubt that he _ would _be able to; things like that just fell into place when you were an occult and/or ethereal being, and surely the effect would be doubled with both of them working together. The receptionist tapped dutifully away at his computer keyboard, and then arranged his face into an expression of regret.

“I’m afraid we’ve only got one room left for tonight, sir. Would you like-?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll-” Aziraphale began, but Crowley simply turned the smirk up a few charm levels.

“Would you mind just double-checking?” He snapped his fingers discreetly, below the level of the desk, and winced as the _ click _ seemed to echo in the open lobby. The receptionist tapped a few more keys, then shook his head.

“I’m sorry, sir. We only have the one double room available.”

“A double. Right. Well, never mind. Come on, angel, we’ll keep driving-”

“We’ll take it,” Aziraphale told the receptionist, positively beaming. “Don’t be a grouch, Crowley.”

Aziraphale had to finish checking them in, because Crowley was rather preoccupied with panicking. Not about sharing a double room with Aziraphale - no doubt the angel had confused the concepts of ‘double’ and ‘twin’ rooms, not for the first time, but Crowley could just as easily sleep in his car - but about the fact that his infernal miracles weren’t working. Hell might be done with him, and he with them, but it had never occurred to him that they might cut him off. He hadn’t been sure it was possible.

Their room was on the top floor, Aziraphale informed him as he ushered Crowley towards the lift, and Crowley barely waited for the doors to close before he turned to him.

“Angel. Bit of a problem.”

“Oh, nonsense, I’m sure we can manage with the one room-”

“Not that.” He owed it to the angel to be honest, but it was _ embarrassing_. “I- my miracles- I can’t do miracles.”

“What?”

“My miracles aren’t working.”

“Nonsense. Perhaps you’re just tired. Nothing we can’t fix-”

“Angel-”

It wasn’t a tall building, and they weren’t the only ones in it; the doors opened with a _ ping _ to reveal a weary-looking family with their suitcases.

“I told you we were going to the wrong floor,” one woman was saying to the other, but Crowley failed to appreciate the truly malevolent look she got in return because it had just occurred to him that _ they _didn’t have luggage. Surely the receptionist must have noticed? He should have miracled something up, only of course that wouldn’t have worked. Aziraphale seemed remarkably unfazed, grinning at the little girl as she and her parents got off at the second-highest floor. They continued up in silence until, almost before Crowley could realise what was happening, Aziraphale was pressing a keycard against the little pad beside a door.

And there they were, all of a sudden, standing in a clean, bright room with just one large bed in it. Not, Crowley noted with disappointment, a large enough bed that you could cling to the edges and avoid one another; no, anyone sharing this bed would have to lie close together. Their arms would probably touch as they lay stiffly side by side, staring awkwardly up at the ceiling, and if one of them rolled over in the night… Well, that wouldn't be a problem for them, partly because Crowley would definitely discorporate long before there was any prospect of him falling asleep, but mostly because their sharing a bed was _ not going to happen. _

“Well,” he began, “there you go. Bed’s yours, I’ll just… snake out and sleep in the shower, or something. Maybe there’s a heated towel rail-”

“Nonsense.” Aziraphale sat on one side of the bed and patted the mattress, inviting Crowley to join him. Crowley couldn’t say no to his angel, of course, but he perched as far away on the other side of the bed as he could. “See? Plenty of room.”

“I sleep like a snake,” Crowley argued quietly, “I coil around things.”

“Oh, well, that’s not a problem.”

“I’d coil around _ you_,” Crowley explained, “not- not on purpose, but you’re warm.”

“Well, I don’t mind.” For someone who didn’t mind, though, Aziraphale was avoiding eye contact with quite some determination. “Perhaps, though, you could simply sleep in human form?”

“That _ is _in human form.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale’s cheeks turned pink, and Crowley wished he would just look at him so he could see what he was thinking - but then, he didn’t want him to look, because he was sure the angel would see right into his hopeless demonic heart. “I’m sure we’ll live.”

“Not sure I will, angel,” he muttered, but Aziraphale gave no sign of having heard.

“I don’t suppose you’d be amenable to sleeping _ now,_ would you, my dear? I’ve had so little practice, and I’m certain any distraction would keep me awake, but perhaps I could learn from the master. I find myself exhausted, suddenly.”

“Well, it’s been a long week,” Crowley sighed, “of course we can sleep now.” There went all hope of putting off the torture. With a bit of luck, Aziraphale would sleep for only an hour or so. Then Crowley could commandeer the bed for the rest of the night.

They took it in turns disappearing into the bathroom to change - though, since it was only a matter of snapping their fingers, Crowley didn’t really see the point, nor what could be taking Aziraphale so long - and then slipped under the covers. Crowley clung to the edge, as he’d planned, until Aziraphale huffed and grabbed his sleeve to urge him over.

“You’re going to fall out of bed and wake me up.”

“Wouldn’t want that.”

They lay there, side by side, staring up at the ceiling, and Crowley wondered how on earth he was supposed to sleep when his arm was indeed, as he’d suspected, pressed against Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale, in fact, shifted slightly so that his arm was crossed _ over _Crowley’s, and their fingers brushed for a moment before Crowley repositioned himself. That was a close one; it would have been so easy to grab Aziraphale’s hand and intertwine their fingers.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began, at the same time as Crowley had a realisation.

“Wait- sorry, angel. You were going to say something.”

“No, no, carry on.”

“Sure? Right, well, I’ve just realised. I changed into pyjamas.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale didn’t seem to know what to make of that. “You could hardly sleep in those jeans-”

“No, but- I miracled the pyjamas. So my miracles _ are _working. So…” He sat up suddenly and felt, rather than saw, Aziraphale go very tense beside him. The angel had reached the same - the only - possible conclusion, then. “The receptionist must be a demon!”

“The receptionist is not a demon,” Aziraphale told him, in a weary voice that seemed to suggest he’d rather not be having this conversation. Equally wearily, he sat up. “Your miracle worked fine.”

“Well, clearly it didn’t, or we wouldn’t be crammed together in this bed!”

“It worked- but so did mine.”

Crowley turned to him very slowly as that sunk in. When he had snapped his fingers, he had _ thought _ it echoed. He had _ thought _he’d heard an answering snap.

“Your miracle.”

“My miracle,” Aziraphale agreed, looking utterly miserable, “which undid yours. You would have got us two rooms, and… I wanted to be with you.”

“You- angel, you could have just said. You could have got us a twin, though, more comfortable for both of us-”

“I wanted to share.” Aziraphale dropped back against his pillow, an expression of the deepest regret on his face. “I’ve been so selfish, Crowley, I’m sorry. I thought, if we shared… if we were asleep…”

Crowley lowered himself back onto his own pillow, propped his head on one hand, and waited. “You thought...?”

“I thought you might, well, snuggle. I thought maybe, in our sleep… but then I realised it would be very wrong to cuddle you when you were sleeping, without your consent, so here we are, on opposite sides of the bed, both miserable for different reasons- I’ve made a mess of it, Crowley. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you.” That had never been in question; Crowley could forgive Aziraphale almost anything, he was certain of it. But it took a little while for the rest of that rambling speech to make sense in his head. “Wait. You overrode my miracle… so we could _cuddle?”_

“I know, I’m sorry-”

“Then why aren’t we cuddling?” 

Aziraphale frowned at him. “You can’t just _ cuddle _people without their permission, Crowley, I just took leave of my senses-”

“Then get my permission. I’ll give it. You can always- angel, you can _ always_.”

Aziraphale stared for a moment, and then he shifted onto his side and opened his arms.

“Will you, then?” And then Crowley was at the centre of the bed, wrapped up in Aziraphale, nothing between them but a pair of tartan flannel pyjamas and a pair of black silk ones.

“You know, don’t you?” It seemed urgent, suddenly, that his best friend should understand how much he meant to him. “That I-?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m afraid I’ve known for quite a while, but it’s one thing to know how you feel and quite another to _ know_. I was afraid you’d get bored, while I was still worrying about Heaven.”

“You’re still worrying about Heaven,” Crowley pointed out, quite reasonably, “that’s why we’re h- oh, for H- for Earth’s sake. It was _ all _ a ruse, wasn’t it?”

“Well. Er. I mean, they _ could _ still come looking,” Aziraphale insisted, “but… well, yes. I might have had ulterior motives.”

“Angel.” He meant it to sound disapproving, despairing even, but it came out sounding altogether too fond to be either. “What exactly are those motives?”

“Oh. Er. Cuddling. And. Well.”

“Full sentences, if you can, angel.”

“Well, I thought it might be an opportunity to, er, to talk.” Aziraphale’s hands were plucking anxiously at a loose thread on Crowley’s pyjama shirt, and it was very distracting. “I, er, I thought I might finally be able to say it back.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I _ want _to.”

“I’ve never… actually _ said _it, have I?” Crowley was running over every interaction they’d ever shared in his head. “I was quite careful not to.”

“Not in as many words,” Aziraphale conceded, “but you certainly showed it. You said it in a thousand little ways, and I always pushed you away.”

“Well. It was probably safer that way.”

They lay in silence for a while, enjoying the closeness, and Crowley wondered if Aziraphale, too, was realising the magnitude of what they’d just got away with. They had defied Heaven and Hell for years - for _ centuries _ \- and topped it all off by raising one final metaphorical middle finger to the entire Great Plan, and probably the Ineffable Plan, too. It was some sort of miracle that they were still there to even _ have _this conversation.

“I love you,” he whispered, because if he couldn’t say it now, when could he? And Aziraphale smiled gently, and he didn’t push him away or snap at him about _ fraternising _ or what _ their sides _ would think.

“I love you, too.” Then he pressed his forehead to Crowley’s and sighed happily. “Oh. That wasn’t so hard to say, after all.”

“No,” Crowley told him around the lump in his throat, “it wasn’t.”

“I wonder if, at some point, you might be amenable to my kissing you?”

“_Amenable-_ angel, you could do it right now and I’d be bloody ecstatic.”

“That _ is _good to know.” But he made no move to do so. “But just now, I think I’d rather hold you while you sleep.”

“But-”

“Crowley, you drove a classic car through Hellfire, stopped time, and took my corporation to Heaven.” Crowley couldn’t resist a snigger at that, but Aziraphale was serious. “I’ve _ been _in your corporation, and it was exhausted. It must be worse now. Get some sleep.”

“Mm.” He could feel his eyes closing already, but he wanted… “Kiss me first?”

“When you wake up, I’ll kiss you all you like.” And Crowley wished he had the energy to argue, but the darkness dragged him down and he let it. Before he could completely lose consciousness, he hauled Aziraphale a little closer.

“‘ll take you to Heaven again,” he mumbled, and fell asleep to the sound of his angel chuckling.


End file.
